


Sprinkles

by Gia279



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Silly, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:27:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27982269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gia279/pseuds/Gia279
Summary: He had seven different colors of sprinkles and two colors of sanding sugar that he rotated between depending on which day he came in, which Cora and Derek kept track of on a calendar that they had to hide from Laura, who thought they were being obsessive.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 31
Kudos: 413





	Sprinkles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WitchRavenFox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchRavenFox/gifts).



> :D I hope this is as fun to read as it was to write! <3

Cora stuck her head around the corner, bright eyed. Her apron was already covered in coffee stains and smears of icing from the cookies she’d been decorating. “Sprinkles is back,” she hissed. “Get the calendar.”

Derek dropped the box of stir sticks on the desk and lunged. The calendar was tucked behind the computer monitor, blended neatly with the files and order forms around it. He snatched a pen from the jar and flapped the well-worn calendar at Cora. “Go, go, he’s gonna know something is going _on_.” 

She made a face and went back to the front. 

Derek hurriedly flipped to the current day and scanned the rest of the month. If the pattern held, Sprinkles should be using either orange sprinkles or blue sanding sugar on a blended coffee. He put the calendar in his apron pocket, clipped the pen to his nametag, and casually sauntered out to the front. 

Cora was already taking his order, so Derek rushed to get it started in the blender. “Derek will have that ready for you in a minute,” she chirped.

Derek looked up automatically and got caught in the bright-eyed smile Sprinkles sent him. 

Cora giggled.

He forced his attention back to the drink he was building, some caffeinated confection he made at least twelve times a shift—mostly for Cora, who was usually bouncing off the walls by the time they left. 

This had all started, as almost _nothing_ did, on a Thursday in June. Nothing ever happened on Thursdays, which was why Sprinkles was such an anomaly. Thursdays were non-days. Laura didn’t even bother coming in on Thursdays because they were so tediously boring. 

Derek and Cora had been alone, mindlessly cleaning and messing around, when he’d walked in. Cora noticed because he tracked dirt on her freshly cleaned floor; Derek noticed him and immediately tried to _un_ notice him. 

He’d smiled tiredly and ordered an iced mocha, no whip. Cora had made it. Passed it across the counter. Derek by that point had been stocking too many napkins into the dispenser, trying to work up the courage to ask his name. 

He’d pulled the coffee across the counter, popped the lid off, and pulled a little plastic container from his pocket. Without a word to either of them, he opened the container and shook bright red sprinkles into the mocha. He’d put the lid back on, thanked Cora, and left while they stared, baffled, at the counter where his drink had been. 

Sprinkles had become a regular after that. He had at least seven varieties of sprinkles and two colors of sanding sugar that he rotated between. He always had the container in his pocket, and always added sprinkles—hot, iced, or blended drinks, with or without whipped cream. 

Derek poured the caramel frap into a cup, tapping the edge to get all of it out.

“No whip,” Cora reminded him, almost gleefully. 

It was Derek’s least favorite of Sprinkles guy’s drinks to make. He put sprinkles _directly_ on top of the frozen drink. Didn’t they get caught in the straw? Derek tried not to think about it too much as he capped the drink and grabbed a straw, then passed it over the counter.

“Thanks!” Sprinkles chirped. He dragged the cup over and, predictably, popped the cap off.

Derek wiped at some miniscule drips of coffee, watching from the corner of his eye.

Down by the pastries, Cora was very, very slowly checking to be sure each row was stocked, in full view of the counter so she could see the container Sprinkles pulled from his pocket.

It was Tuesday, one of the two “wild card” days. Either blue sanding sugar or orange today. Derek had money on orange sprinkles, but Cora was sure it would be the sanding sugar. 

The little container came out…cap off… _orange sprinkles._

The guy grinned up at them. “Thanks!” He snapped the lid back on, waved at Derek, and left. 

Derek whipped around. “ _Hah!_ ” 

Cora scowled. “How’d you know?”

“He used the red sanding sugar on Friday, pay up.” 

She slapped a five into his hand. “I just don’t get who brings _sprinkles_ into a café.” 

“No idea.” He stuck the five in his pocket. “If he stayed longer than five seconds, maybe we could find out.”

“Maybe we should try talking to him for once.”

Derek shrugged. He spread the calendar on the counter to update the sprinkle schedule. 

“No, really. Next time he comes in, I’m going to make conversation.”

The door chimed as Laura walked in, dressed in her typical organization outfit of jeans and an old, faded t-shirt under her jacket, hair caught in a ponytail. 

“I’m tackling the seasonal closet,” she announced. “It’s time, we’ve been putting it off for too long.” 

Cora rolled her eyes. “So you say.” She peered around Derek’s shoulder to check the calendar. “Uh-uh, he used the blue sprinkles yesterday, like he does every Monday.”

Laura’s brows lifted. “Are you guys still stalking that poor guy?”

“Laura, he brought _sprinkles_ into a _café_.” Cora threw her hands up. “Who does that?”

Derek closed the calendar. Last time Laura had seen it, she’d called them creepy and obsessive. “He put red sanding sugar in a hot latte with no whipped cream,” he reported. 

Laura shook her head as she rounded the counter, unwinding her scarf. “I’m just saying, I think you guys are making a bigger deal out of this than you need to. Just ask him.” She hung her jacket and scarf on the hook around the corner. 

“We can’t just _ask_ him at this point.” Cora rubbed her forehead. “This has been going on since June, we should’ve asked then.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Because we couldn’t _speak_ at that moment, some guy dumped sprinkles in an iced mocha on our counter.” 

Laura looked between them. “Right. Cora why don’t you go outside and sweep the leaves off the patio while Derek replenishes the stir sticks and I get the seasonal stuff organized? You guys have _way_ too much time on your hands,” she added. She retreated into the back.

Cora made a face. “I’m still going to try chatting next time,” she mumbled on her way to get the broom. 

Derek tapped his fingers on the counter. He’d talked to Sprinkles a couple times, nothing more than casual greetings and pleasantries. Maybe he could try getting him talking some more.

Maybe he should ask him his name or better yet, let Cora do that. She was better with people anyway. 

“Derek, help me get these snowflake decorations out!” Laura shouted. 

He sighed.

The next time Sprinkles showed, it was Saturday evening, Derek, Cora, and Isaac had been scrambling to keep up with the evening rush of people who wanted warm drinks on their way home, and the lobby was a mess. Derek had left Isaac on the bar so he could clean up—Cora was the fastest on the register and Isaac’s bright smile appeased most irritable customers, so it was the best way—and nearly bowled Sprinkles over while trying to clean up napkins and abandoned cups.

“Jeeze!” he gasped, throwing his hands out for the tray. 

Derek righted it. “Sorry, I didn’t…see…you.” He frowned. 

His eyes were bloodshot and his nose was red. He turned away for a second, scrubbing at his face. “That’s fine, I just wanted a coffee before, um, I went home.”

Derek lowered his tray a little. “Are you okay?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Uh, allergies.” He cleared his throat and pulled up a miserable smile. “I’m Stiles, I realized I never told you guys my name.” 

“We don’t usually ask unless we’re busy.” Derek registered how that sounded a beat too late and winced. “I’m Derek, I—my sisters and I own the place.” 

“And run it?” His brows went up. “I think I see you guys in here every day.” 

“Well, we just hired Isaac to help, but yeah, it’s mostly us for now.” He adjusted his grip on the tray. “We’re still new but I think the locals are interested.” 

“Yeah.” Stiles looked around. “You guys only opened less than a year ago, right?”

Derek nodded. 

He smiled. “Well, it’s doing great, and I’m serious when I say this is my favorite café.” 

“You should try the pastries sometime.” Why was he offering him pastries? He knew they were there, there was a big display just feet from them right now. 

His smile softened. “Yeah, maybe. Umm, I—uh, I should get my coffee, I’m—supposed to meet my dad.”

“Oh, sure.” Derek backed up. “See you later.”

“Uh-huh.” Stiles blurted his order for a hot caramel mocha and a chocolate croissant as soon as Cora greeted him, and seemed oblivious to her bad attempts at conversation. When he got his drink from Isaac, he poured orange sprinkles on top, just like every Saturday.

After he left, Isaac looked wildly between Derek and Cora. “Were those _sprinkles?_ ” 

Cora explained. Derek finished cleaning the tables and thought about this most recent encounter with Sprinkles—Stiles. 

Laura burst through the door, wearing a half-buttoned shirt under a jacket, pajama sweats with llamas on them, and a knit hat. “We’re going to add more cookies to the menu and on Wednesdays-”

“We wear pink?” Cora quipped.

Laura pointed at her. “I am not fucking around. On Wednesdays we’re going to have trivia nights.” She pulled a legal pad from her purse. 

“On…Wednesdays?” Cora wrinkled her nose.

“We’re going to rotate events, I have a list.” She waved the legal pad. “We’ll start with trivia night. Derek?”

He leaned on the broom. “We agreed to let you make the business decisions.” He refused to meet Cora’s eyes. 

“What’s your _opinion?_ ” 

“That Wednesday is midweek,” he said dryly. 

Laura wasn’t disturbed. “Well, instead of a trivia night, we could do a trivia question for free drinks.”

“No, everyone would be getting free drinks!” Cora looked to Derek, gesturing at Laura like, “well?!” 

“What else is on your list?”

She blinked at it. “Frequent buyer stamp cards?”

Cora pointed. “That one. Let’s do that one.” 

“We’re still doing event nights,” Laura said, but weakly, while Cora and Isaac chattered about what the stamps should look like.

Derek finished sweeping the lobby. He wanted no part in that because he _knew_ he was going to get dragged into hosting an event night.

They decided on an H stamp, which was completely obvious and took _Isaac_ , of all of them, to suggest, and Derek was assigned Thursday night game nights. He was disappointed but unsurprised. 

Stiles returned Monday morning, just after opening. He was wearing a loosed, crooked tie and looked frazzled, shredding a napkin while placing his order. 

Cora was still filling the milk carafes in the back, so it was just Derek until the morning rush arrived. It was a good time to make conversation, but as soon as he realized that, his mind went blank. 

His gaze caught on their shiny new stack of frequent buyer cards. “Oh, hey, you should take one of these. For every nine drinks, you get one free, and since you’re here so often, it’ll be worth it.” He stamped the first square on the card before he held it out.

Stiles blinked, then slowly accepted the little card with _Hale of a Brew_ scrawled along the top, with their logo and the nine spaces for stamps. “When did you guys start this?”

“Very recently.” He didn’t mention that the card he’d just handed him was the first they’d given out and that they’d just received the cards that morning. “I’ll get your drink started.” 

Stiles nodded and moved down to the pick-up counter while Derek buzzed around to make his peppermint mocha latte. He tapped the card against his palm a couple times before putting it in his wallet. He tugged at his tie and made a face. 

“Job interview?” Derek guessed as he poured. 

“Huh? Oh, no.” Stiles grimaced. “I’ve been—my temp agency has had me working in this, uh, office and…” He gestured at his tie. “They changed the dress code and I can’t remember how to tie this _and_ I hate that place,” he blurted. “I hate it, it’s awful, everyone is either racist or homophobic or both, it’s too quiet all the time and everything is _beige_ , why are there so many beige furniture options?”

“I…don’t…know.” Derek carefully capped the coffee, pushed it across the counter, and, still looking at the cup, offered, “I could help with your tie?”

“Really?”

When he looked up, some of the gloom had left Stiles’s face. “Yeah, sure, it’s no big deal. Of course, you’ll have to come back tomorrow so I can help again.” He grinned and thought _Where the hell did that come from?_

Stiles smiled. “Then I guess I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Derek waited until he’d sprinkled his coffee—blue sprinkles, every Monday—before he rounded the counter to help with his tie. “My older sister wore ties a _lot_ in high school and college so I learned how to tie them on other people by about age eleven,” he said to distract himself. 

Stiles tipped his chin up just enough that Derek could get at the tie without knocking him in the jaw. “That was nice of you.”

“She made me learn,” he laughed. He smoothed out the mess Stiles had made of the tie before starting a new, neater knot. It wasn’t complicated, but Derek found himself almost fixated on the scratchy fake blue silk sliding through his fingers; he could just see Stiles’s throat and bottom lip from this angle. He finished the tie and let it fall to his chest, then automatically reached out to straighten his collar. His knuckles grazed soft, warm skin and he jumped. “Sorry!” 

“It’s-”

“All done, I can probably—probably just teach you how to do it yourself, if you’d like.” 

Stiles stepped back too, and cleared his throat. “Yeah, that sounds good.” He blinked blankly at his hands. “But tomorrow! If that’s okay—I’m already late.” He swiped his coffee from the counter. “Thanks, Derek!” he called over his shoulder, and he was gone. 

Derek stared at the counter where a few blue sprinkles had fallen.

“I cannot _believe,_ ” Cora intoned, making him jump, “that he was here _that long_ and you didn’t ask him about the sprinkles!” 

“Were you eavesdropping?”

She glowered at him. “I work here and this is a _public_ place, it isn’t eavesdropping to overhear you in the café lobby!”

He shook his head. “I forgot,” he admitted. 

She stared at him. “You…forgot?”

“I forgot to ask about the sprinkles, okay? I forgot.” He stomped behind the counter, grabbed a fresh rag from the drawer, and wiped the sprinkles away.

Cora was watching him. “You forgot our six month long mission?”

“Yep.”

“Traitor.”

He finished cleaning the counter, ignoring her glare. “Better get your apron. The morning rush is about to arrive, and then Laura will be here to do the paperwork.”

Cora scoffed at him, stalking to the back.

Derek checked the drip coffee and ordered himself to forget the soft, warm skin of Stiles’s throat. 

The door chimed. 

“Good morning,” he called and got to work. 

Cora spent the morning ignoring him or calling him a turncoat, and followed Laura huffily to the back when she arrived. By afternoon, Cora had defrosted from irritated to thoughtful and Laura simply looked exasperated. Neither of them told Derek what they’d been talking about.

He concentrated on the coffee. 

They didn’t see Stiles again until Thursday, and even then, he didn’t show up until they were well into hosting board game night. Cora loved it because a local group of teens playing a tabletop RPG had officially declared Hale of a Brew _their_ place, which meant Derek was juggling the entire spectrum of age groups. It was good that game night was popular. Definitely. 

Stiles burst in while Derek was serving decaf to the seniors playing an intense game of rummy. He was still dressed for work, although his tie was crooked and his shirt was a wrinkled mess. His hair was also standing up and sticking out all over the place and his face was tense, eyes wild.

“Uh…” Derek looked around for help.

Cora shot over, taking the tray from him. “I got this.” She looked giddy. 

Derek hurried to Stiles, who was still standing just inside the door. The intense expression was fading from his face now. “Hi, are you…are you okay?”

Stiles lifted his gaze. “Oh, yeah. Sorry to barge in on your…party?”

“It’s game night,” Derek mumbled. He cleared his throat. “And open to the public, so feel free-”

“I quit my job,” Stiles blurted. “I quit and the agency is going to be pissed but I hated it there and every other place I’ve worked, it’s _awful._ ” He looked around as if noticing everyone was listening to him, and his face, already pink from the cold, went bright red. 

Derek gestured at him to follow and took him to the back. “Take a seat.” He pointed at the only chair, the one they used for counting the till, paperwork, and training people…training _Isaac_ , who was their only other employee. The back of the café was filled more with the ovens, the refrigerators, and other equipment and decorations. Also aprons.

Stiles sat, twisting his hands in his lap. “Sorry,” he said hoarsely. “Sorry, that was—a lot.” 

Derek shook his head. “No big deal. We have people in here shouting every day. It’s kind of nice when we aren’t the ones being yelled at.”

Stiles laughed mirthlessly and covered his face. “That was so embarrassing. I’m sorry, really, I should’ve just gone home or gone to whine to my dad.” He dropped his hands, grimacing.

“Well…” Derek shrugged. “If you _wanted_ to leave, I could make you a coffee and you could be on your way.”

He laughed again, that dry, humorless laugh that sounded painful. 

“Or…you could fill out some paperwork, help us with game night, and come in tomorrow for training.” Derek caught his breath, sure he’d overstepped or said something stupid. 

Stiles’s brows furrowed. “Did you just offer me a job?”

“I think so. Was that weird?”

He shook his head, then looked around the room. “I—are you serious?”

Derek’s brows furrowed. “I-” He thought maybe he should be insulted on his business’s behalf.

Stiles waved his hands and jumped up. “I just meant I didn’t want you to regret offering if you were just feeling bad for me.” He set his jaw. “I can find another-”

“What’s with the sprinkles?” Derek blurted. 

Stiles blinked at him. “Huh?”

“Why do you have so many sprinkles and why do you use them on _every_ coffee you order?”

“Oh, you noticed.” He laughed awkwardly. “It’s—it’s something my mom used to do when I was a kid and had a bad day. I was trying to make the best of that stupid job.” His eyes narrowed, dropping off to the side so he was glaring at a box of aprons. 

“My offer was serious. It’s just been the three of us all year, and then we hired Isaac, but we could use more help, especially with Laura’s plans for event nights.” 

Stiles smiled slowly. “If you’re sure…then yeah, I’d like to apply for the job.”

Derek grinned. 

Stiles was a fast learner, and was great with the customers: he was outgoing and upbeat and he only rarely spilled drinks. He was also quicker than Cora on the register and almost had all of their drinks memorized within weeks. After a couple weeks, Stiles brought in some friends, and suddenly Hale of a Brew had a full enough staff that Derek, Cora, and Laura could have a day off every once in a while. Laura could typically only be pried away from _all_ work, including the paper and computer work she kept at the house, once a week if that.

Derek and Cora distracted her with a new project for the café until a Thursday in late December when it was ready. 

“Isn’t Stiles opening today?” Cora asked as Laura unlocked the doors to let them in.

“Yep.” Derek didn’t look at her. He was holding most of the supplies and they were getting kind of heavy.

“I see.” She giggled. 

Laura elbowed her. “Just get ready to lift, Cora.”

“You’re gonna lose,” she whispered.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing, Derek, she’s being stupid, can we _please_ take everything inside now? I’m freezing.” Laura and Cora each lifted an end of the narrow table they’d put together the night before and carried it into the café.

There was space for it between the pick-up counter and the milk and sugar counter. 

The sign under Derek’s arm was in the same font and style as their menu, to be hung just above the new table: _Sprinkles Bar._

They only had minutes before Stiles would arrive to open the café, so they worked quickly and mostly in silence, filling the back, raised edge of the table with two rows of little plastic containers—every type and color of sprinkles they’d been able to find. 

Laura had originally thought the suggestion was kind of strange, but Cora was firmly on Derek’s side about it and since they so rarely made decisions about the place, she decided to allow it. “Are you sure he isn’t going to think it’s weird?”

“Nope,” Derek said, wiping the counter once more for no real reason. “But I’m hoping he’ll get the idea.” 

“The idea…” Laura prompted.

Cora snickered and stepped back from the table to fiddle with her phone. “We should go wait in the back while Derek does the big reveal. It _was_ his idea.” 

“They’re sprinkles, Cora,” Laura muttered. 

“Uh-huh.” Cora took a picture of the table, nearly blinding Derek with the flash, and grabbed Laura’s hand. “Come on. I’m sure there’s some paperwork you’ve been dying to sneak in and grab.” 

“Actually, yes, there is.” Laura rolled her eyes at Derek but allowed herself to be pulled away. 

Derek turned to the sprinkles bar. His cheeks prickled with heat. Maybe Laura was right and Stiles would think it was weird.

Keys jangled at the door.

Too late to take it back now.

Stiles frowned as he walked in, then gasped, one hand flying to his chest. “Oh, god, you scared me. I was wondering why the small lights were on—I thought Erica forgot them last night.” He closed and locked the door behind him. “I thought you were off today?”

“Uh—I am, sort of. I just had something I wanted to do.” He swallowed his nerves and stepped aside, gesturing with the world’s most pathetic flourish at the bar.

Stiles frowned again and stepped closer. His brows went up when he read the sign.

Derek said, “We thought other people might like a little…pick-me-up as well.” He looked at the rows of sprinkles. “And, uh, for the sake of transparency, we—Cora and I used to call you Sprinkles when we didn’t know your name.” 

Stiles laughed. “I see. Good to know I made such an impression.” He plucked up a container of gold and silver sugar pearls and turned it over in his hands, smiling down at it.

Derek thought of the calendar tracking his sprinkle habits. “Heh, yeah. You did.” He felt Stiles staring at him and flushed. “Anyway, we thought people would like it and wanted to show you first.”

“Thanks.” Stiles set the container back down and tapped his fingers against the counter, humming thoughtfully. “Hey, do you want to get lunch after my shift?”

Derek looked up.

“A date.” Stiles smiled shyly. “I’m asking you out on a date. Erica said I should be very clear.” He shuffled his feet, looking around. “I tried to ask for your number a couple times but couldn’t work up the courage and I just—I’ve gotten to know you a little better and now _this_ , it’s sweet and I just wanted to—go for it.” He exhaled noisily. “Put me out of my misery, please?”

“We should get lunch and then go see a movie,” Derek said and cleared his throat. “Unless you’ll be too tired.”

“No, nope, lunch and a movie sounds great.” Stiles beamed and reached out to squeeze Derek’s hand. “I have to start opening up –but later.”

“I’ll pick you up.” Derek grinned as Stiles darted around to get the café opened up.

Laura and Cora came out of the back bickering. “Yes it does, it counts,” Cora snapped. 

“No, you bet _Derek_ would ask him out, not the other way around. I win.” 

“You bet they wouldn’t start dating for another six months.” 

Derek gaped at them. “What are you talking about? Why are you betting on this?”

Cora waved her hands at him. “No. I’m only giving you half, because six months from now is way different from just the other way around.” 

Laura rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’m still cleaning up from Erica, Boyd, and Isaac. Boyd had the most faith in you,” she added to Derek. “He bet that you were waiting for New Year’s Eve on purpose.”

Derek glared between them. “You guys can walk home.” He stalked outside and smirked to himself when they chased him out, shouting. He’d be irritated about the bet later. For now, he had a date to get ready for.


End file.
